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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 46 из 208Matteoraised his voice to hail the guards. A small battalion promptly clattered up. Matteo singled out the man wearing a commander's insignia.
"You will release this man," he stated.
The guard bristled. "On what authority?"
Matteo merely lifted one brow, an imperious gesture that prompted Andris to swallow a smirk. The guard dipped his head in a nervous bow. "I do not presume to argue with the king's counselor, but this man just tried to escape!"
"I obtained his word that he will not escape from me. Did you?"
The guard opened his mouth, then closed it in a thin-lipped grimace. "No," he said after a moment.
Matteo nodded pointedly at the door. The guards set about unchaining the locks and removing the magical wards.
"You do that very well," Andris murmured as they strode down the corridor. A hint of his old twinkle had returned to his translucent hazel eyes, and shades of their former camaraderie added an amused edge to his voice.
Matteo sent him a sidelong glance. "My skills seem to be improving. I never thought the day would come when I could outsmart Andris. And with a trestle table! It is said that a man is equal to the weapon that fells him."
The ghostly jordain snorted. "Go ahead. Enjoy the moment."
"I intend to! At this rate, I will soon be able to best you in battle."
Andris's smile returned in full. "As a wise man recently observed, keep repeating that thought. If words truly have power, they might eventually turn into reality."
Chapter Five
The aroma of strange herbs filled the air, and the soft music of reed flutes and long-necked stringed instruments followed Matteo down the corridor of the greenmage's domain, a wing of the palace where the palace servants and courtiers sought healing.
Matteo paused at an open door and gazed for a long time at the big man who lay, propped up with pillows, in a narrow bed. Themo, Matteo's jordaini friend and classmate, was finally awake after a long and unnaturally deep slumber. His eyes were open and focused, and he gazed out the window with a reflective air.
Matteo tapped on the doorframe. "The king's counselor, come to call," Themo said without looking over.
A smile pulled at the corners of the jordain's lips. "How did you know?"
"You're the only one who knocks. The green-mages burst in at all hours like rampaging orcs."
"At least you haven't lacked for company." Matteo came in and set his gift, a small bottle of golden haerlu wine, on the bedside table.
"You will release this man," he stated.
The guard bristled. "On what authority?"
Matteo merely lifted one brow, an imperious gesture that prompted Andris to swallow a smirk. The guard dipped his head in a nervous bow. "I do not presume to argue with the king's counselor, but this man just tried to escape!"
"I obtained his word that he will not escape from me. Did you?"
The guard opened his mouth, then closed it in a thin-lipped grimace. "No," he said after a moment.
Matteo nodded pointedly at the door. The guards set about unchaining the locks and removing the magical wards.
"You do that very well," Andris murmured as they strode down the corridor. A hint of his old twinkle had returned to his translucent hazel eyes, and shades of their former camaraderie added an amused edge to his voice.
Matteo sent him a sidelong glance. "My skills seem to be improving. I never thought the day would come when I could outsmart Andris. And with a trestle table! It is said that a man is equal to the weapon that fells him."
The ghostly jordain snorted. "Go ahead. Enjoy the moment."
"I intend to! At this rate, I will soon be able to best you in battle."
Andris's smile returned in full. "As a wise man recently observed, keep repeating that thought. If words truly have power, they might eventually turn into reality."
Chapter Five
The aroma of strange herbs filled the air, and the soft music of reed flutes and long-necked stringed instruments followed Matteo down the corridor of the greenmage's domain, a wing of the palace where the palace servants and courtiers sought healing.
Matteo paused at an open door and gazed for a long time at the big man who lay, propped up with pillows, in a narrow bed. Themo, Matteo's jordaini friend and classmate, was finally awake after a long and unnaturally deep slumber. His eyes were open and focused, and he gazed out the window with a reflective air.
Matteo tapped on the doorframe. "The king's counselor, come to call," Themo said without looking over.
A smile pulled at the corners of the jordain's lips. "How did you know?"
"You're the only one who knocks. The green-mages burst in at all hours like rampaging orcs."
"At least you haven't lacked for company." Matteo came in and set his gift, a small bottle of golden haerlu wine, on the bedside table.